"Let's sit down." On one hand, it's to be able to get a closer look at Cedric's arms; on the other, it's because Howard isn't sure how much longer he can keep standing and running. His face is a nightmare, his head feels like it's containing a thousand fanged, rabid rats, and he's not sure when he started to limp but odds are he pulled something somewhere. The bandage around the gash above his ear is loose, too.
Howard gets to his knees and takes a look at Cedric's arms. "Okay, that's good. I mean, it's not good, but these aren't bad. It's all surface damage. I wouldn't even bother if we weren't just in a sewer."
The bruises Howard can't really do anything about; he has a cold pack in his kit, but only one, and Cedric has them on both arms. Not to mention that they probably don't have time to sit around like that. He gets some rubbing alcohol out of his kit.
"This is going to sting, alright?" Not that he expects that to bother Cedric. Athletes tend to have a higher pain threshold than not. "Then I just need some help with the lovely gift that Terminator gave me."
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Howard gets to his knees and takes a look at Cedric's arms. "Okay, that's good. I mean, it's not good, but these aren't bad. It's all surface damage. I wouldn't even bother if we weren't just in a sewer."
The bruises Howard can't really do anything about; he has a cold pack in his kit, but only one, and Cedric has them on both arms. Not to mention that they probably don't have time to sit around like that. He gets some rubbing alcohol out of his kit.
"This is going to sting, alright?" Not that he expects that to bother Cedric. Athletes tend to have a higher pain threshold than not. "Then I just need some help with the lovely gift that Terminator gave me."